Chuck vs Charles
by jbquick35
Summary: All Chuck ever wanted was a normal life, but just how normal can a guy like Chuck be? The Intersect is gone, but so are Casey and Sarah. Is this the life Chuck wanted?
1. Prologue

_Hi. My name's Chuck. Here are a few things you might need to know._

_This is my first definitive foray into the world of fan fiction, so I would be especially appreciative of any and all reviews. I implore you to inform me of any and all of the mistakes, issues, misgivings, etc., that you find in any of my work. I know it's not especially long, but hopefully I can improve on length once I start to hit my stride. With that said, let's begin!_

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Chuck. If I did, no one would be petitioning for a third season because I would have already filmed it.**

Prologue

Alter Ego

He skidded to a stop, black sneakers squealing on the hardened floor. Curling up into a ball, he rolled into the side of an overturned table, barely avoiding the deadly projectiles that flew over his head. He moved his hand downward and into his pocket, picking up a clip of ammo. Within a few quick moments he had reloaded his firearm and was now engaged in peaking around the table he was using for cover.

Spotting one of his adversaries, he quickly popped up from his plastic fortress and began to fire. The target took three shots to the chest and proceeded to fall. Hard.

The shooter glanced around, wary of any other unsuspected surprises that might be looming around the darkened corridors. Spying none, he made his way back to the buildings entrance.

It was darker than it should have been. Most, if not all of the lights in the main room had been shut off; their normal fluorescent glow accompanied by the humming sound that reminded him of a crickets nest in June were now absent from reality. In there place there was only the constant thud of his shoes as they beat monotonously and restlessly against the cold cement that covered the floor. Thud. Thud. Thud. It was hard for him to believe that the world could be so unforgiving. _When the soft noises of a pair of converse trainers could fill the world with sound, _he thought, _then this surely must be a lonely world. _

He walked on, noting that his destination was not far off. Shots rang out to his right. Instinctively, he leaned against one of the tall shelves that crowded the overlarge room. He listened for his foe to reveal himself, to make a mistake, to do …something. That something came in the shape of more whistling projectiles that flew just passed his head. He waited for his enemy to fire off one more volley, and, upon hearing the shots hit the shelf, he leapt out from his cover sideways, squeezing off rounds as he did. One. Two. Three shots to the chest. The man went down without a cry.

He dusted off his pants as he climbed up to his feet. That was the last one. He had been counting. There was no one left to oppose him. Satisfied that he was quite alone he again began his journey to the exit.

Upon reaching it and subsequently alighting from the building, cheers erupted from his right. He smiled. He was quickly swept up in a sea of green and khaki.

"Chuck!"

He looked around for the source of the noise, as if he didn't already know who had made the utterance.

"Hey, little buddy," he said as he eyed one rather short, bearded man.

"Dude! You so rock at this!" the gnome-like man replied. "Seriously! I mean, how on Earth did you get so good? I mean Call of Duty is one thing, but this? That's incredible Chuck!"

Looking back at his friend, Chuck, for this was surely the man's name, tore the mask from his face and smiled. "How else? Call of Duty is my life, Morgan. I mean, sure…We kinda had a falling out when World at War came out, but now that I'm back to my baby Modern Warfare, I feel complete."

"Oscar-Delta, baby. Oscar-Delta," Morgan, for his name was most certainly Morgan, said. "Speaking of which…I heard that the new beta for the third one was out…is there any chance that I could..you know?…maybe…possibly…if it's not too much trouble…"

"Not a chance in hell."

"Come on, Chuck. I haven't leaked anything to my sources in _years_."

"That's because I haven't given you anything to leak in years," Chuck smirked. "Morgan, you know I love ya, buddy, but protocol dictates that I re--"

"Refrain from sharing any possible future prospects with potential buyers and or advertisement agencies. Yeah, yeah. I get it," he replied, obviously dejected.

Chuck laughed. After all these years, Morgan was still Morgan.

"It would appear congratulations are in order."

Morgan turned his head to acknowledge the speaker who happened to be intruding on their moment of victory.

"Stuff it, Larry. We _owned_ you guys, and you know it." Morgan's disrespect of authority was still intact.

"I think you mean _Chuck_ owned us because I certainly didn't see him," he pointed to Jeff, "shoot anyone."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. As long as we got my boy Chuck here, you Large Mart swine can't even out paintball us. Even on your own terf! Speaking of which, shouldn't you be cleaning that mess up?"

Morgan was almost glowing with excitement as he watched the assistant manager of the Large Mart stalk off to regroup with the rest of his team.

"Okay, dude, you know for the next paintball tournament I was thinking that we ditch the Large Mart. I mean, it's not really fair for us to have to play in there; they know the setup! It's like were the Empire and their set up on Hoth. Well, maybe that wasn't the best example, but you get my point. Plus, if we go to a mutually beneficial site, no one has to worry about cleanup. We'll just let the common folks handle that. And then---"

Chuck wasn't listening to his friend as he went on and on and on…and on about paintball techniques and locations, and Chuck didn't even pick his ears up when Morgan started to discuss, in detail, what kind of swine worked at the Large Mart. He had actually dropped out of the conversation at the word handler, and where a confident smile had been just thirty seconds earlier, stood a look of sad remembrance.

"Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck? You listening?"

"Yeah, buddy. I got it all. Paintball. Largemart. Handling." The last word was merely a whisper. "If you don't mind, I think I'm gonna head home. Been pulling double shifts lately and I'm dead."

"Of course, man. Guy's gotta recharge the batteries."

"Thanks. Tell Big Mike we won."

"Sure thing," Morgan called after Chuck as he walked away.

Pressing himself to keep his stride its normal length and speed, Chuck hiked through the dense forest of automobiles that cluttered the Buy More Plaza. He made his was to the corner of the plaza that housed the Orange Orange, all the while trying, but not necessarily succeeding, to keep his breath steady and his heart under control. He stopped in front of the building, deciding whether or not he should enter. Deciding that courage was the better part of valor, he opened the door and crossed the threshold, hearing a light tinkling from the bell overhead as he did so. He went behind the counter and into the freezer, punched in his security code, allowed his retina to be scanned, and waited as the melodramatic doors to The Castle opened with that swoosh that Chuck always associated with top-secret military bases.

He walked out on the landing and surveyed the room below. There were no handlers to greet him. There was no Casey to harass him about 'keeping it in his pants' or 'mixing chocolate with peanut butter'. There was no hum of the computer as it tracked down known Fulcrum agents or started up a conference call with Beckman. There was no Cole. Thank God there was no Cole! No Bryce. No Jill. No Agent Alex Forest. Not even a Sarah Walker was there to greet him. No Sarah.

It didn't quite resonate with Chuck. For so long now, he had wanted his old life back. He just wanted to get his carefree, happy go lucky life back, even if it was one of mediocrity. The white picket fence, the 2.5 children, the billionaire software industry. Well, maybe that one wasn't exactly normal, but he had wanted it.

He could still have that life if he wanted. He had his degree. He had his friends. He had his family. One thing that Chuck Bartowski didn't have, though, was himself.

Staring down at the empty…_secret base? I guess you could call it that…._Chuck felt like his life had been taken from him, yet again. All those years of protesting against everything spy world had thrown at him, and Chuck didn't realize that somewhere along the way, Chuck Bartowski wasn't the same Chuck Bartowski.

There was no Casey. Chuck could live with that. There was no Beckman. He could live with that. He was almost ready to live without Sarah Walker, but what he wasn't ready to live without was himself. He sighed as he looked down at the now empty secret base. His life was still just as complicated as it ever was, at least, that is, after Bryce had sent him that damn e-mail. _God damnit, Bryce! Why me? That fucking e-mail! That gorram, horrible, deadly, getting killed for having it e-mail! That great, wonderful, beautiful e-mail!_ He sighed again.

One sound was present in The Castle that night, the wheezing sobs of one….Charles Carmichael.

_**

* * *

**_

_Well, there it is. I hope you found it passable, at least. As I've said, please review so I may better understand where it is that I fall short. Thanks for reading!  
_


	2. Chapter 1

_Okay, so maybe my names not really Chuck, but these are some things that you might need to know. Possibly...._

_I understand that it could have possibly been confusing to read the prologue. It was a bit hard for me to read it, and I knew what was going on. So, quick synopsis if that's all right: Chuck does not have the Intersect anymore. It was removed by his father at the end of Season 2 (or so I'm assuming). This is Chuck's life after Operation: Bartowski. Spy World is now completely gone, except for the Castle, which is under the Orange Orange. I didn't think that the CIA would pay to blow it up, or destroy it, so they simply dismantled it. It is still accessible, it's just empty. Casey and Sarah left after the Intersect was removed because Beckman didn't see the need for two of her best agents to protect a civilian. I think that covers everything in the prologue, but if there is something that is questionable, please alert me so that I may fix it._

_**Disclaimer:** Still do not own Chuck. Except on iTunes.  
_

Chapter 1

Awesome By Definition is Mediocre

Chuck's eyes were glazed over as he spooned several bites of sugary cereal into his open mouth. His taste in breakfast foods certainly had not changed over the years, nor did his taste in wall decorum, as noted by the Tron and Dune posters that still adorned his room.

That had changed, though. His room was no longer the guest room that was situated within the apartment of Ellie and her Captain. In fact, he lived on his own now. No one bothered him to grow up or get rid of those posters. Sure, Ellie sometimes haggled him about it, but she knew better than to push too far.

Picking up a paper, Chuck skimmed through the headlines, reading a few articles here and there about a lost puppy, a high school basketball team, and a fireman who rescued a cat out of a tree. None of it impressed him; it actually had an effect contrary to that. Reading these mediocre and 'normal' stories made him feel out of place. He had done great things, extraordinary things, and no one would ever know. Those that did were either dead, missing, or long gone, off to better and more exciting prospects.

He choked on his Fruity-O!'s, snorting milk out of his nose. He looked over the paper once more, noting that his excretion of dairy products had irreparably stained the front page. Chuck looked at the top of the page. _January 7, 2010._

_Great, _he though. _Another day of normal._ With that thought on his mind, Chuck left the now empty Echo Park apartment, climbed into the seat of his assigned Herder, and started, ever so reluctantly, to the Buy More: Burbank Branch.

* * *

She watched as Nerd Herder number three pulled up into the Buy More Plaza. The tires could be heard as the squealed ever so softly from the sharper-than-normal turns the driver was taking. He drove past her, seemingly unaware of her presence. _As he should be,_ she thought. _After all, this is just some mediocre spy work._ She laughed to herself as she thought of him making such a big deal about her 'skills'. In truth, she enjoyed his compliments, though she had to admit that she never had been to Jakarta and stopped a ruthless dictator in a knife fight. She would have to tell him someday…

Nerd Herder number three pulled into the specialized parking zone in the back of the store. Her breath caught as a tall, gangling nerd pulled himself out of the tiny car.

* * *

He spied Jeff and Lester huddled around the Nerd Herd desk, doing what could presumably construed as sexual harassment. After all, everything they did could be construed as sexual harassment. Luckily for the two Bennigan's burnouts, Big Mike had a very, very, very lax policy on all things related to practically everything. As he approached his desk, the two nerds got unceremoniously quiet. Their backs stiffened when he sat down at his usual chair. Chuck looked up, staring hard into the eyes of the two men. Jeff, who had obviously had four to many nightcaps, stared back with lazy eyes. Lester grew overly nervous, started to scratch at his collar, and muttered something that sounded like 'buttered corn' before scuttling off to the break room with Jeff in tow.

Before retreating into his world of solitude, Chuck checked the messages on his phone. It had become a sort of routine for him: wake up, go to work, check phone, pretend to work, check phone, leave, rinse, and repeat. He had grown accustomed to it, and sometimes was thankful for the monotony of his job. Well, almost.

The one and only message on his phone was from Jenny Berkely, the girl that rented the apartment next to his. The apartment that used to be Casey's. For some reason or another, she just wouldn't leave him alone. She was constantly calling for him to come fix her computer, only for him to drive all the way to Echo Park to discover that it hadn't been plugged in. Today, though, she was asking him to go to lunch.

The irony wasn't lost on Chuck. Six months ago, he had been in love with one Sarah Walker, a.k.a. Jenny Burton. Hell, he was still in love with Sarah Walker, a.k.a. Jenny Burton. It was much to his chagrin and perpetual unhappiness that a fellow Jenny had moved in next door. Sure, THIS Jenny was pretty, but there's no way she could stop a gun trafficking ring with a ball point pen. She just wasn't the same Jenny. She wasn't his Jenny. _But,_ he thought as he replied to her inquiry with a yes, _I'll never see THAT Jenny again._

"Woah! Stop the presses!"

Chuck was so distracted by the numerous Jennys in his life that he didn't notice his bearded friend approach the Nerd Herd desk.

"Vicki Vale!"

_What? Vicki Vale? Morgan's only called one girl Vicki. It can't be…_ Chuck looked up with hopeful eyes.

He watched dejectedly as a very non-Sarahish blonde sauntered past the desk, heading for the home appliance section.

"Oh man, that's got to be **the** hottest piece of pizza we've seen since-" Morgan cut off mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the stiffness in his best friends shoulders.

"Carina?" Chuck's attempt at humor caught Morgan off guard, but he rolled with Chuck's attempt at levity.

"Yeah, man! Oh my God, she was so hot! And she was totally in to me, too!"

"That she was, Morgan," Chuck replied. He didn't have the heart to tell him that Carina was an undercover agent for the DEA and her date with Morgan had been only to secure Chuck's own cover.

"Grimes!" The gruff call of Big Mike was something Chuck had grown accustomed to hearing on average seven times a day. Most of these, however, were aimed at Jeff and Lester, and it must be fairly important for Big Mike to be calling for his son-in-law in such a manner….or he might just be hungry.

"Yes, sir?" Morgan slurred his words together when said this in an attempt to deflate any possible respect that might be shown in such a gesture.

"Get these losers slapped into shape! We've got a corporate eval coming in tomorrow, and if these nerds aren't at least presentable, I'm cutting nacho night!" Big Mike's promise to stop the flow of nachos into Morgan's abnormally large stomach was no empty threat.

"Yes, sir. Right away. I'll get on that immediately."

Big Mike, manager of the Burbank Buy more for eight years, stormed off, back to the relative safety of his office.

The rest of his day at the electronics retail store was, for the most part, uneventful. He had lunch with Jenny at a new restaurant in the plaza, making a mental note to check this one for concealed computers and/or hidden CIA substations as he wolfed down his burger.

Chuck pulled next to the curb that served as a parking lot for those living in Echo Park. The short walk to his apartment door seemed unbearably long without her on his arm. _No, I can't think about that. It's done. She's gone._ He opened the door to his apartment, half expecting Ellie to be cooking or Awesome to be doing some absurd exercise that involved hanging from the ceiling like a opossum on the branch, but there was no Ellie or Awesome. They moved out after they got married. They wanted to start a family, and they didn't think they could do that 'in such a crowded neighborhood'. Chuck knew what they meant though. They couldn't have a family of their own with such a crowded house. They didn't want their kids to grow up learning from their lazy bum of an uncle.

_If only they knew. _After all this time, he still wasn't allowed to share facts with his family. The United States government had forbid him from telling anyone, even after the Intersect was out of his head. They even blackmailed him into staying at the Buy More. Apparently, it would be too suspicious for him to suddenly find a motive to leave, especially after Sarah 'left' him. After all, he had fallen into a slump after Jill, the same should be true for Sarah. _Fuck the U.S. government! God Damn it!_

Chuck sat down to a lonely meal of cold cereal, followed by a lonely evening of watching t.v., enunciated upon further by a lonely night of sleeping. Alone. It was time for Chuck to rinse. And repeat.

* * *

"I don't care what it takes. Get him on board!" The voice of General Diane Beckman was a bit harsher than normal. If that was possible.

Sarah Walker was careful to keep her face from becoming flustered. It wouldn't do. Not now. It had been enough of a struggle to get Beckman to agree to let her run surveillance on this assignment. If she showed any signs of remorse or any indication of possible treason, she would be pulled immediately.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, haven't we ruined his life enough? We've already taken his career and his family. Do we have to take what little he has left?"

"I don't care," the General repeated. "This is getting too far out of hand. Get the asset on board now, or I will send an NSA extraction team and spirit him away to bunker so far underground that he won't even be able to dream about sunlight!" After this last exclamatory remark, Diane Beckman, Director of National Intelligence, ended the conference call.

"Bitch," Sarah mumbled, just loud enough for her partner to hear her.

"She's right, you know."

"What?" She looked at her partner. "How could you agree with her?"

"We're losing Walker. You know that. I know that. **She** knows that. How much longer do you think it's going to last?"

Sarah was silent. Appalled by the words that were coming out of her partner's mouth.

"We need him. He's the only one that can do it."

"No. We could try recruiting again. Run the tests. We could have messed them up."

"You know as well as I do that that won't work. We didn't find anyone that could deal with the stress. Face it, Walker. The kid's special."

She was silent again. Unbeknownst to her, she had started to cry, and now tears were running unbidden down her pearly cheeks.

"He's one in a million. No one can do what he does."

Sarah looked at her partner.

"I know," she managed to say in between sobs.

"Then you know why we have to do this."

"Yeah. I know." Knowing didn't stop the tears.

Her partner turned to leave, but turned back after a few steps.

"He really did get to you, didn't he?" The voice held no contempt or snide. It was merely a question.

She nodded and managed to say, "Yes, he really did," before completely breaking down.

"Damn. That kid really is special." With this remark, her partner turned to leave. The swoosh of the top-secret military base doors sounded throughout the room as they opened and then closed.

She was alone. It wasn't the first time she was alone, but it sure as hell felt like it. She regained a bit of her composure.

"He's more than special," she said to no one in particular. "He's awesome by definition," she said before she collapsed once more into a series of heavy sobs.

* * *

Jenny Berkely woke up. Looking at the clock she noted that it was 2:14 a.m. _Right on time._ She got out of bed, stretched, and walked to the living room of her two story apartment. 2:15 a.m. The plasma t.v. on the wall clicked into life.

"I assume everything is going according to plan?"

"Yes sir."

"In that case, we are clear to move forward."

"Very well, sir."

"You have your orders, agent. Make sure you follow them this time."

"Yes sir. You can trust me. I'll have the asset eating out of my hand within the week."

"Good. That will be all." The screen clicked off. Jenny Berkely had work to do, and little time to do it in. Operation Ursa Minor was underway.

* * *

Chuck's nights were normally filled with turmoil and wrought with frantic memories of a past life. Images would fly past his eyes like they used to with the Intersect, but these were different. These weren't government secrets. These were his secrets; his memories of a secret life. Chuck remembered how much it hurt when he flashed and the headaches he would get if he flashed on too many things too quickly. These images hurt so much more than that. It felt like every one was burned into his brain, and then replaced immediately for a new one to take its spot.

So it was, that on this night, the pain of memory was so excruciating, that Chuck couldn't sleep. He looked at his clock. 3:28 a.m. _Fuck._ _Is it to much to ask for? Just one fucking night of sleep?_

A soft, distinct tapping noise emanated from one corner of his room. He looked up. No one was there. Thinking that he must have imagined it, Chuck rolled over on his side, desperately willing himself to forget everything, to no avail.

He heard the noise again. He shifted a little so that he could pull the blankets over him tighter in an effort to ignore that 'fucking bird in the corner'.

Again, the noise sounded. Chuck had had quite enough of that.

Rising from his bed, he shouted, "What the fuck do you want!?!"

What he saw outside of the Morgan Door appalled him. He collapsed on his bed, whether from shock or exhaustion, Chuck would never know.

* * *

_And that's the end of Chapter One. Again, if there is anything at all that was hard to understand, please tell me. And...uh....review? please? come on...you know you want to...just push the little button...yeah...yeah..that one..right there..._


	3. Chapter 2

_Hi. Name's definitely not Chuck_. _Here are a few things you might need to know._

_Chuck passed out. He's still really good at that apparently. I hope this chapter answers one or two of your questions, but certainly not all of them. I still have to come up with a passable plot, establish some rising action, and reach an appropriate climax, unless, of course, this is a multi-fic story, in which case I can end it where I please. If there are any questions about plot or details or anything that are fuzzy, please make them known. I realize I'm not the best and it definitely shows in my writing. Thanks for the reviews and feedback so far!_

_**Disclaimer: **Chuck is owned by the U.S. government, which constantly reminds him that he could be put in a bunker...or worse._

Chapter 2

Real, Live Women

Sarah waited, rather impatiently, for just the right moment to make her entrance. It was getting late, or maybe it was early, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she'd been waiting for what felt like forever. She checked her phone. 2:14 a.m.

It was that time of night when everyone and everything was asleep. The time after the crickets stopped chirping and the raccoons stopped rummaging through the trash. Everything was still. Even the clouds in the sky had seemed to stopped moving.

So quiet were her surroundings, Sarah had to suppress a yelp of surprise when the upstairs lights of an apartment flickered into life. Through the window, she saw a rather attractive brunette woman stand up, stretch, and head downstairs into her living room. Just the sight of her seemed to bore a hole into Sarah's stomach. She hated brunettes.

The lights on the main floor of the apartment illuminated her more fully than those of the upstairs. _Odd. Who gets up at this hour? Why would she bother to turn all the lights on?_ Sarah slipped back into the comfort of the shadows as she contemplated those issues.

A small wave of nostalgia hit her. That had been Casey's apartment. She settled deeper into the shadows that populated the corners of the courtyard, and waited. At 2:18, the lights on the first floor went out. At 2:20, the lights on the second story were extinguished. At 3:20, exactly one hour later, to account for the various times it takes for people to fall into a deep sleep, Sarah stole away from the corner she had been occupying all night, or morning, and made her way to that all familiar window.

3:21. She looked in the window at what she thought was the sleeping form of the resident of the building. He looked so peaceful. Serene, almost. She was about to take all that away from him. Again. _God Damn U.S. government,_ she thought. _Couldn't they understand? Why do they want to ruin his life again? _

3:22. Sarah took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. The taste of bile filled her mouth, but she willed it down.

3:23. She put her hand on the window. Ready to push it open and enter the room.

3:24. It was locked. _God Damn it! _

3:25. No. She couldn't start crying now. Not now. Not now.

3:26. _Fuck!_ She couldn't stop crying now.

3:27. She managed to halt some of the tears.

3:28. _Now or never._ Still crying, she tapped on the window. He didn't look up. He didn't acknowledge her. It looked like he was ignoring her. He shifted so that his back was toward her. _Yep. Definitely ignoring me._ She tapped again. He pulled the blankets tighter against him in response. _Damn it! Why do you have to make this so hard?_

She tapped again. The response wasn't quite what she had hoped for, but she still couldn't help feeling good when he rose and saw her.

"What the fuck do you want!?!" he bellowed.

Sarah stood there, crying, smiling, and laughing all at the same time. She watched as his expression become softer. His eyes grew wide in shock and his teeth were no longer bared in a snarl. Unfortunately for Sarah, the moment ended as suddenly as it began, with Chuck passing out on his bed.

"Sorry, Chuck."

* * *

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Ellie, I'm telling you, it was her!" Chuck screamed into the receiver. The only sound evident in his apartment were his manic ravings. "I saw her with my own eyes!"

"Chuck," she said softly, "I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"But, Ellie, it was her!"

"You know, sometimes our minds tell us things are there, when nothing really is. It's not all that uncommon actually."

Chuck recognized that voice. His sister thought he was crazy. She was doing her best to pass off as a caring sibling, but was remaining clinically detached. "I know what I saw. I didn't imagine it."

She waited awhile before speaking again. "Chuck, you haven't been sleeping. You said it yourself."

"Which is why I saw her! If I had been asleep I don't think I could have!"

"Sometimes, these things can be brought on by exhaustion, too," she said.

"Fine. I'm crazy. Or schizophrenic, or whatever the FUCK you want to call it!" Chuck was getting really flustered by his sister's apparent lack of disbelief with his tale, but how could he blame her for that? He had kept so many things secret from her. Was this God playing with him? Who's fault was this? _If there is a God, he has one fucked up sense of humor._

"I'm not saying your crazy. It's just that sometimes the brain misinterprets things around it, especially when were stressed or experiencing emotional turmoil." She paused. "What's wrong, Chuck? You've been really different ever since-"

"Nothing. I'm fine," he deflected. "but I know what I saw."

"I know that's what you think, -"

"It's what I saw!"

"-but please, little brother, don't get your hopes up."

Chuck hung up the phone. No conversation was worth being institutionalized over, and Chuck had a hunch that Ellie would end up steering the conversation in that direction. She'd already called him crazy, hadn't she?

It didn't matter. He knew what he saw. Chuck wasn't crazy. He couldn't be crazy. _Could I? _he thought. _On second though, I probably am. I mean, who would _want _to go on life threatening top-secret missions? Yep, I'm definitely crazy, but I'm not schizophrenic. Hell no. _

The rest of Chuck's morning was spent doing the usual. He ate his Fruity-O!'s. He glanced at the paper. This one said _January 8, 2010. _He loosely wrapped his tie around his neck, and, last and most certainly his least favorite, he crammed himself in the four foot tall Toyota Yaris he called a car and drove to work. _Yay. Work._

_

* * *

_

It was becoming something of a daily routine for Sarah Walker. Every day, she lay prone on top of the now vacant Orange Orange, watching as Chuck drove into the plaza. Just knowing that he was safe was a blessing to her. Knowing that he got the life he always wanted, a life without her, hurt like a knife. Some part of her had hoped that maybe he wanted to include her in his post-Intersect days. The other parts of her wanted to rip Beckman apart for not letting her stay.

* * *

Chuck sat behind the Nerd Herd desk, eyes glazed over in what anyone passing by would think was boredom. In reality, Chuck was listening to the music on his phone. He had replace his Jill '03 mix with an even more depressing Sarah '09 mix. Normally, Chuck didn't try to revel in the fact that the best part of his life was behind him and he would never get to go back.

Today, though, was different. He had seen her, outside of his window, and now he couldn't stop thinking about her. Ellie had called him crazy, but she was Ellie. _What else would she say? It's not like I can readily explain to her why I do…_he glanced around at the Buy More…_this. I can see that conversation right now. 'Yeah, Ellie. The reason I got kicked out of Stanford was because Bryce Larkin didn't want me to get recruited into the CIA. But then, on my 27th__ birthday, Bryce sent me all the government secrets and I became a CIA agent. Sarah is my cover girlfriend and John Casey is.. John Casey. They're my bodyguards.' _He chuckled at the ridiculous conversation that would ensue after this confession. Ellie would almost definitely have him institutionalized after an 'episode of that magnitude'.

"Bartowski! Look sharp! The evaluator's gonna be here in twenty minutes! Those geeks better be in tip top shape!"

"Always are, sir," he replied noncommittally.

"Good." Big Mike paused. "And one more thing."

"S'that, sir?" he slurred.

"Take those damn things out of your ears!"

"Mmm…"

Chuck removed the buds that had been inhabiting his ears that morning. He switched the music on his phone off, and, as he did so, he noticed that he had one new message. From… Jenny… Again. This one was just like all the other ones; she was asking him out to lunch.

He replied with a cool, but not necessarily apathetic, '_Sure'._ After all, he had to get his mind focused on **something**, and one Jenny was, hopefully, better than no Jenny.

* * *

Chuck met Jenny at the new place in the Buy More Plaza, after the evaluation was over. It seemed, to him at least, that this was the only restaurant that she would eat at. She'd never wanted to eat at the Weinerliscious, but Chuck couldn't really blame her for that, after all, Scooter was still in charge. She never even asked him to Lou's Deli, which surprised him, because although he was unofficially banned from that place, everyone seemed to really like her sandwiches. Shouldn't Jenny like her sandwiches, too? _Apparently not. _

He didn't really like this new restaurant, but, apparently, a lot of people did. It was the fastest growing fast food chain in the country, which didn't really surprise Chuck. It wasn't like the food was terrible, and, if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that it was quite good.

The thing that bugged him the most was the fact that there was no secret base or hidden computers in the restaurant. It was completely on the 'up and up', and, try as he might, Chuck just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with that. After all, the CIA owned the Orange Orange company, and used it as a front for covert operations. It just didn't feel right to him because there was nothing 'wrong' about it.

"Chuck?"

"Hmmm?"

"Chuck, what's wrong? You've been sitting there, staring at your food for the past fifteen minutes? Do you not want to talk to me?"

He looked around. Sure enough, his food had been left unmolested, while hers had been dutifully disposed of. He looked up into her eyes. They were brown, like his. "Huh? Oh no, no, no. It's not that. It's just…-"

"Listen, Chuck. You can tell me. I want to know. Maybe I can help?" she said, perhaps a bit to eagerly for his liking.

"It's just…well…," he trailed off, not sure where to begin.

"Go on," her voice implored him.

"Okay, well, you know about my last girlfriend that I was telling you about?"

"Yeah. Sarah Walker."

He was a little annoyed at how casually she spoke her name, but continued anyway, "Well, last night," he paused. _What if she thinks I'm crazy, too? Wait, why should I care what __**she **__thinks?_, "I saw her."

"Chuck, that's impossible. You told me she died. In a car crash."

"I know," he said, trying to retain his composure, "but I saw her."

Her words were little more than whispers when she next spoke, "That's impossible."

"No, it's not! I saw her!"

"Where?" That was not the question Chuck was expecting to hear.

"Outside of my window. Why?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as to why she would want to know such a lame detail.

"Chuck," her voice sounded sympathetic, "you didn't see her."

"Yes I did!"

"Listen. You didn't see her. You identified her body, right? You saw her dead. You went to her funeral. You didn't see her."

"Do you think I'm crazy, too?" he asked vehemently.

"No. I think it's been hard on you," she stated simply. "You've had to go through so much. Your parents leaving you, that whole Stanford debacle, and now this. Not exactly the tastiest icing on the cake."

"But I **saw** her!"

"Chuck, you saw her dead. You were imagining it." She stopped speaking as she noticed his clenched jaw. In an effort to disarm the situation, she reached out with her left and grasped his. As she drew her thumb back and forth across his knuckles, she said, "Chuck, I know this has all been hard on you, but you need to move on. I'm here. Right here. Right now. I'm ready to help you move on."

He looked up at her, saying nothing as he stared into her brown eyes.

"I want to help you. Come with me. I'm a real woman who wants to help you live. Let me help you live."

He grasped her hand in his, and said two words, "Thank you."

"Hey, what are friends for? Especially friends that are **girls?**" She smiled coyly at this last statement.

* * *

Chuck opened the door to his apartment and stepped over the threshold before he was furiously attacked. He fell on top of the couch in the living room, the only piece of furniture Ellie and Awesome hadn't taken with them. Before he could regain any amount of control, he was thrown onto his back. Someone jumped on top of him. _Oh, God!_ he thought before he lost almost all cognitive thought.

Jenny pressed her lips against his, furiously trying to make Chuck forget. What Chuck was having trouble remembering, however, was what he was trying to forget.

His hands went up around her back, pulling her closer to him. He could feel her heart beating in her chest as she drew back and settled across his hips. Unwilling to let that be the end, Chuck responded in turn, flipping her over so that she was on beneath him. Her hands went up into his hair, stroking the long curls that adorned his head as he began to work down her neck.

A moan left her lefts as Chuck found a particularly nice spot to suckle.

"Chuck?"

He stopped. Pulling back, he looked at her. Before he had a chance to question what just happened, she threw herself at him, smashing her lips against his. They fell to the floor, but neither one felt the jarring impact.

She seemed impatient, haphazardly throwing herself to him. It reminded him of something else. Something… different, but he couldn't quite place it.

He threw the thought aside, or rather, forgot it, as she pulled his white Nerd Herd shirt off over his head. She was on top of him now, topless except for a rather revealing piece of lingerie.

She stood up and motioned toward the bedroom before running off into it. Chuck followed, almost eagerly.

She was sitting on the bed when he walked in, arching her back seductively and grasping at the sheets. He stopped. On his nightstand was a picture. _The picture._ The one where he had his arms wrapped around Sarah. They looked so happy together. _What the hell happened? _he thought. _Oh right, I fucked up and the God Damn CIA arranged her death. _

"Wait. Stop."

"What's wrong, Chuck?" she purred.

"I…I can't do this."

"But, Chuck," she pouted, "I thought…I thought…"

"Me too." He sighed. "Look… I'm really sorry. I just can't. Not yet. I'm so, so sorry."

"Fine," she said stiffly as she sat up. "I understand."

_Was that hurt in her voice or am I crazy? Both,_ he decided.

"I'm really, really, really sorry," he pleaded.

"Save it, Chuck. Obviously I was wrong. You can't move on. I'm sorry I tried to help," she said as she put her blouse back on. "I'll see you around," she said coldly before she slammed the door, leaving Chuck all alone in his empty apartment.

"Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to listen to you get it on."

Chuck spun around, facing whoever it was that had spoken.

"You!?! What the _**FUCK do you want!?!"**_

_**

* * *

**_

_And there it is. Chapter 2 is out. Uh...I'm kind of running out of lines from the show that I can use as titles. Does anyone have any ideas? Anyway..please read and review! Thanks!  
_


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